


Tips for the Proper Care and Feeding of Your Blutbad

by rabidchild67



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some h/c, some smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tips for the Proper Care and Feeding of Your Blutbad

**Author's Note:**

> Written very early days in the fandom - most of this is Jossed by now.

**Give him lots of walks**

“Really? This is what passes for police work?” Monroe snotted. “Really? Really? Really?”

“It’s a stakeout, and quit fiddling with the radio!” Nick said, slapping Monroe’s hand away.

“You get paid to do this? Are these my tax dollars at work?”

“Actually, no, I’m off the clock. I think this Jennings guy is a _jägerbär_ , and he’s responsible for those maulings up by the river. The ME said it was a _wolf_ and I’m not buying it.”

“And why did you drag me into it?”

“Because I’d think you’d care if your fellow lupine brothers were getting a bad rap.”

Monroe gave him a look. “I don’t care about wolves,” he said. “Do you care about monkeys? What makes you think we’re remotely related? Man, you’ve got a lot to learn. You’re so species-ist.”

“That’s not fair!” Nick protested. “And I don’t know what that means.”

Monroe just gave him a Look and they sat in broody silence for another half hour while nothing happened.

“This is stupid,” Monroe started up again, flexing his wide shoulders inside his own coat as if he had outgrown it. “We’ve got no proof this guy’s a _jägerbär_ , just a hunch on your part. And another thing –“

Nick interrupted him, mid-rant. “Maybe you should take a walk. Or something. Stretch the legs. Blow off some steam.”

“That’s a terrific idea,” Monroe said and slid out of the car, slamming the door with a loud _THUNK_.

Fifteen minutes later, Nick jumped as Monroe’s scruffy head appeared in the driver’s side window. “Your _jägerbär_ ’s on the move! Let’s go!”

 

**Make sure he gets lots of play time**

Nick drew his gun as the sounds of growls and snarling coming from the clearing got louder and more frenzied. He was not fully prepared for what he found.

Jennings had transformed completely into a bear and was looming up on his back legs, long, yellow teeth bared. Most of the snarls were coming from his gaping maw. Monroe maintained most of his human form, though Nick could detect the red glow in his eyes from several yards away, and his hands had sprung what looked to be razor-sharp claws. He was using these to harry the bear, swiping at its legs and belly, trying to draw it further into the forest.

“Monroe!” Nick shouted, alarmed. Despite his size, the bear dwarfed the _blutbad_ , and Nick feared for his safety.

Hearing his shout, the bear reared its head with a snarl, coming back down on all fours. Seeing its change in focus to the hapless Grimm, Monroe aimed a vicious swipe of claws at the thing’s flank. It flinched and turned, swung a massive paw at Monroe, raking its claws across his chest and throwing him twenty feet away, where he rolled to a stop with a yelp, facing away from Nick.

“Monroe!” Nick screamed, but could do nothing; he soon had 500 pounds of pissed off bear to deal with. It moved on him slowly, and he took a step back, raised his gun. “I will shoot you, Jennings, make no mistake,” he said, and he wouldn’t have thought it possible but the thing may have laughed. 

Nick kept backing away, but the bear advanced more quickly, so Nick squeezed off a warning shot that whizzed past its ear. It didn’t stop its advance, and Nick kept backing away, until his foot snagged on a root and he fell onto his back on the ground, his gun flying from his hands. He scrambled away on his ass, feet kicking out, but the bear was soon looming over him. It stood itself up on its back legs again, front paws raised as if in triumph. Nick raised an arm defensively, waiting for one swipe of the bear’s great paw to end his tragically short career as a Grimm.

Suddenly, a grey blur appeared from nowhere as an immense wolf leapt into the fray. It launched itself at the bear’s throat, its momentum flipping the beast backwards, massive jaws clamped around its throat. The bear struggled mightily, but the wolf’s grip would not be budged, and soon its energy gave out. 

“Monroe!” Nick called, coming to his feet. The transformed _blutbad_ sank its teeth into the bear’s throat even deeper and emitted a dangerous snarl. “Come on, buddy, it’s over. Monroe!”

The wolf released its hold and turned towards Nick, who for the first time saw the blood staining the white fur of its underside. It sat down heavily, looked up at him, panting. “Monroe?” Nick said, coming down on one knee. The wolf collapsed onto its side, and Nick watched with wonder as it transformed back into the human form of his partner. 

Nick scrambled closer, saw the bright splash of blood and the grisly damage the bear’s claws had left across Monroe’s torso. Blood poured from him, running down to disappear in the leaves of the forest floor. Panicking, Nick tore off his denim jacket, wadded it up to press against the wounds. He glanced over and Jennings, also transformed, lay dead in the clearing, naked.

Monroe too was naked, and Nick pulled off his shirt and covered him as best he could. He groaned, looked up at Nick through eyes clouded by pain. “Jesus, Monroe,” he began, but his words failed him.

“Well, that was fun,” Monroe muttered before passing out.

 

**Treats, on occasion, are encouraged**

“There he is!” Nick said cheerfully as he entered Monroe’s hospital room.

“You say that every single time you come to visit,” Monroe pointed out testily.

“And it’s true,” Nick continued, refusing to be baited. Monroe did not take well to forced inactivity; it exacerbated his natural prickliness. He held out the small box he brought as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, ignoring Monroe’s mood

Monroe winced as he tried to sit up. He accepted the proffered box and unwrapped it sullenly, but couldn’t keep up his foul behavior once he saw what was inside. “Jean-Paul Hévin chocolates? Really?” His eyes lit up immediately.

Nick shrugged. “I know you like them. I know you hide them from me.”

“They’re not for an indiscriminate palate,” Monroe sniffed as he popped a _mendiant_ into his mouth. “Oh my God, was that candied ginger?” he enthused, pawing through the packaging to investigate. 

Nick smiled indulgently and reached for one. Monroe slapped his hand away and snarled, “Get your own.”

“I did get my own!”

“Sorry, force of habit. In the pack, you take what you can get and guard it carefully.”

“How you feeling today?” Monroe continued to study the ingredients on the packaging, ignoring him. “I know you hate being here, or admitting weakness or whatever, guy, but you know, I kind of care what happens to you, so if you could just pretend to care enough to ease my mind –“ 

“I care.” He was still looking at the packaging, unable to meet Nick’s eyes

“You have a crazy way of showing it. Most people enjoy extra attention.”

“Guess I’m not most people,” he said quietly.

For the first time since arriving, Nick noticed how drawn Monroe’s face was, the bruise-dark circles under his eyes, the way he fidgeted with the covers. “What is it, Monroe?” he said, his tone gentler. He reached out a hand and cupped his lover’s cheek.

“Nothing.” Not believing him, Nick hooked a finger under his chin and forced him to look into his eyes. “I hate it here.”

“No one loves hospitals.”

Monroe pulled away from him, looked at him sideways as he spoke. “But it’s different for me. There’s something you need to know about _blutbaden_ , Nick – all our senses are highly attuned. Everything smells like death and disease here. But I can also hear _everything_. Every person that dies, every child that cries out for his mother, and it’s killing me. Why do you think I live by the park? It’s quiet there. I can’t sleep here, I can’t eat, and I’m going stir crazy.” He was breathing hard now, making Nick fear he’d hyperventilate. 

“Hey, shh, hey. It’ll be OK,” Nick said, putting both hands on his shoulders, but Monroe wouldn’t calm down.

“And I can’t move, not like I’m used to. If I needed to defend myself, or you, I don’t know if I could.”

“You just need to heal. You can’t worry about that now.”

“It’s not that easy and you know it. You don’t think there aren’t things gunning for me now? Now that I’m hooked up with a Grimm? We’ve both got targets on us, Nick, and it’s not like I’d change anything, but it’s a fact. They’ve done it before – they got to your aunt, and they’ll get to me. I feel like I’m a sitting duck. Or worse - like I’m in a cage.”

Nick pulled him close and held his head against his chest, running his hands over his broad back and making soothing, shushing noises. He hoped it would comfort Monroe, but he also knew he wasn’t wrong. He’d be safer at home. 

“Here, have a caramel,” Nick said, taking up a morsel and pressing it against the _blutbad_ ’s lips. Monroe opened his mouth to accept it and Nick popped it in. “I’ll get you out of here. Today, I promise.” He kissed him lightly on the temple and went off in search of the doctor.

 

**Make sure he is groomed regularly**

Nick stood in the doorway to his bedroom, a stack of towels in his hands, watching Monroe read. The _blutbad_ had been installed in his house for the last week and, Nick reflected, he couldn’t be more welcome. He liked having him to come home to, and he liked having someone to fuss over. He’d never have thought himself capable – Juliette was always the caretaker – but he found he liked the role more and more.

Monroe was reading a copy of Copernicus’ _On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres_ in the original Latin and giggling softly to himself. Nick wouldn’t know what that was all about – he just loved whenever Monroe wore his glasses. He colored slightly when Monroe looked up at him, caught him staring. Nick smiled. “Ready for a bath?”

Monroe frowned. “I suppose. Can’t I wait to take a real shower later, after the doctor’s?” Monroe was scheduled to have his stitches removed, and neither of them could wait.

“You’re a little whiffy,” Nick informed him regretfully, and shifted his weight to his other foot. 

Monroe eased himself out of the bed slowly, wincing when the stitches pulled, and followed Nick to the bathroom, where he had drawn a shallow bath. Nick helped him undress and get into the tub, then carefully bathed him all over with a washcloth and bar of lavender soap.

“Somehow, in my fantasies, this was always sexier,” Monroe commented. Nick knew he only barely tolerated all the fussing; he also suspected Monroe knew he was doing it because he thought he owed him so much. There was no mistaking that the _jägerbär_ would have killed Nick if Monroe hadn’t been there, but neither of them had really talked about it.

“Mine too,” Nick replied with a crooked smile.

Monroe smiled back and leaned against the tub’s end, taking hold of Nick’s wrist as he was wiping at his shoulder. Their eyes met. “Have I thanked you for taking care of me all this time?” he said, suddenly serious. “I know I’m not the easiest house guest to have around.”

“Have I thanked you for saving my life?” Nick said, equally gravely. He held Monroe’s gaze for several seconds, then straightened up. “You killed a man for me. I don’t think I have words, Monroe.”

“He was a _jägerbär_ , and a murderer.”

“He was still a man.”

“He would have killed you,” Monroe said slowly, “I protect what’s mine.” 

As he said it, Nick realized that the man bore no regret or guilt for what he’d done. In the simple black-and-white morality that lived inside Monroe Monroe, defending someone’s life was enough. Defending what was his was enough, and then the impact of those words hit Nick. _He was Monroe’s._ The thought made him feel warmer inside, somehow, and extremely happy. 

He blinked at Monroe, but didn’t call attention to the sentiment. He knew it’d only make him self-conscious. Instead he caught a damp curl at the back of his neck between two fingers. “You could use a haircut. Want me to go get some scissors?” 

“Absolutely not. That is something I prefer to leave to the professionals.”

“Don’t you trust me to cut your hair?” 

“I don’t trust the man with the floppy bangs to cut my hair, no.”

“I like the floppy bangs!”

“Makes you look about eight years old.”

“Hey!” Nick exclaimed, feigning outrage. He flicked the washcloth at Monroe, who caught it and Nick’s hand with a laugh and pulled him closer for a kiss. 

 

**Treat him with love and affection and your efforts will be rewarded**

Nick changed the channel on the Blazers game in disgust and went to take another pull from his beer when he noticed it was nearly empty. He was about to go get another when Monroe walked through from the kitchen, two fresh bottles in his hands. He handed one to Nick and sat down at the other end of the couch.

“What are we watching?” 

“SportsCenter.”

“Cool.” Monroe picked up the magazine he’d been reading earlier and donned his glasses. They sat together for several minutes until Nick finally realized Monroe was staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…thanks for cooking dinner. I never knew tuna casserole could be so…tasty.”

“The secret’s in the broccoli cheese soup,” Nick shared, watching with amusement as Monroe shuddered. He knew he’d be itching to get back to cooking for them; the casserole was Nick’s way of nudging him. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“Least I could do.”

They sat together a few more minutes. Or rather, Nick watched TV while Monroe watched him. “What?” he said, cutting his eyes over but not turning his head. Monroe just smiled. “What?” Nick repeated, and as he turned his head, Monroe launched himself at him, an assault of lips and tongue and urgency.

“Oh, Christ Almighty,” Nick moaned as Monroe’s weight settled on top of him. It had been a couple of weeks since they last touched each other – first Monroe was in so much pain and then they were both always so exhausted and careful around each other.

Nick grasped desperately at Monroe’s head as he kissed his way down Nick’s neck and throat. “God, I need to see your skin,” he said, fumbling with the buttons on Nick’s shirt, finally giving up and ripping the thing open. Nick pressed himself against Monroe as he raked his bottom teeth across a pert nipple, clutching at the back of his head desperately. Monroe kissed his way down Nick’s belly, long fingers pulling at his belt buckle impatiently.

“Do not rip the jeans,” Nick ordered, and Monroe made frustrated whiny noises as his shaky hands coped with the button and zipper. When he’d got them open, Monroe reached a large hand inside and pulled out Nick’s half hard cock, lowered his head and took him into his mouth, whole.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Nick exclaimed as his cock was engulfed by moist warmth, his hips bucking up involuntarily. Monroe had his hand on the shaft, working it in and out of his mouth and soon Nick was completely erect, pumping up into Monroe’s mouth in time with the rhythm he set. Monroe pulled back then, Nick’s dick springing out of his mouth with an audible pop, and he pulled Nick’s pants farther open, freeing his balls and burying his face in Nick’s crotch, sucking each ball in turn. 

“You smell so good,” he gasped as he went, finally licking and kissing his way up and down the length of Nick’s cock. Then he took the head into his mouth, sucked on it hard before taking Nick’s entire length in. Nick could feel the head of his dick hitting the back of Monroe’s throat, so tight, so hot as his throat muscles worked. He put his hand on the top of Monroe’s head, fisting his curls, trying not to pull too hard, but at the same time not really caring if he did. 

“Saint Peter and all the apostles!” Nick exclaimed as he came, his entire body stiffening. Monroe clamped his lips over the head of Nick’s cock, swallowing every drop. 

Nick fell back against the couch, boneless, and Monroe lay back on top of him, nuzzling against his neck and planting small kisses there. When Nick could manage more words, he put his arm around Monroe’s neck and sighed. “That was…”

“Just a little token of thanks,” Monroe said with a smile. “For all you’ve done for me.”

“Wow, most people just send a muffin basket.”

“It was the least I could do,” Monroe replied with a naughty smile.

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
